Scars of War
by btvsna
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione must stand together to face Voldemort. As they get ready to head off into battle, they all carry scars from the war they have fought. Written between HBP and DH, my take on how the series would end.


**A/N: I wrote this between HBP and DH. I was actually surprised when DH came out how many similarities there were. Guess that's what happens when you obsess over a series of books for years on end, huh? I'm leaving this in its original format, with original author's notes. Enjoy.**

**As usual, I own nothing. I just like to play pretend.**

_A/N: Okay, this is just my take on how I think the series will end. I know some people won't be pleased for me, so all I can do is ask your forgiveness. Forewarning to those who are easily uncomfortable, there are some scenes in this fic that might upset you. Be warned._

"So, this means its over, right?" Ron asked, gingerly sipping his mulled mead. The bruise surrounding his left eye seemed worse in the dim lighting of the pub.

"No, it doesn't," Hermione said softly as she took the seat next to Ron. "There's still one left." She seemed reluctant to name it, casting Harry a hesitant look that he completely understood.

The past year had been difficult, for all of them, but it was about to get a whole lot worse.

It had taken almost a year, but together, with the help of Dumbledore's Pensieve, they had found the remaining Horcruxes. Ironically, it was the first one that Harry went to hunt that was the final one to be destroyed. Harry had felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he lowered the locket into the potion necessary to destroy it. It had almost felt as though Dumbledore was there with him, watching as the locket screamed in some foreign tongue before exploding violently. It was Hermione who had finally figured out their only clue.

R.A.B. Regulus Augustus Black. Sirius' brother. Sirius had told Harry that Voldemort had killed Regulus personally, and now they knew why.

Who would have thought that the heavy locket they once found when they were decontaminating the Black house the summer before fifth year, the one that they so idly binned, was the locket that held a piece of Voldemort's soul. Hermione, who's brilliant mind never forgot a thing, remembered this locket one day, towards the end of their search, and decided it was worth a try. And that it was.

Now that the locket was destroyed, there was only one Horcrux left: Voldemort himself.

For the first time in his life, Harry had forewarning that he would be fighting Voldemort. Spies for the Order had caught word that Voldemort would be in Hogsmeade the following evening, in an attempt to take over Hogwarts. It was agreed by many in the Order (rather reluctantly in some cases) that the best course of action would be to wait and be ready. Best to have as many troops as possible to defend a location that is known to be the target of an attack, than to split the troops up and send them out looking for the enemy. Harry took a big gulp of mead and tried to push the thought of destroying Voldemort from his head, at least for the night.

"So," Hermione's timid voice cut through his thoughts, "what are we doing? For tonight, at least?"

Harry looked up. Both Ron and Hermione were looking at him with a mixture of expectation and trepidation. Harry almost laughed. In the course of a year they had all become a troops fighting in this war, and he somehow had become their captain.

"Tonight we relax. We've been fighting since August, and there will only be more to come. So, tonight we're not going to worry about it."

Hermione opened her mouth, maybe to question him, or maybe just to ask what they would do tomorrow, but shut it without a word when Ron put his hand over hers.

Harry looked across the bar as sadness gripped his heart. Although Ron and Hermione had never come out and admitted their feelings for one another, at least not as far has Harry knew, they had taken to holding hands and, while in private Harry only intruded on once, each other in the past several months. Although Harry was glad to see his friends together at last, it pained him, even if only partly, to see their affections, as it reminded him of what he had once had with Ginny. Harry sometimes wondered, usually at night when he was alone and couldn't sleep, whether or not he and Ginny would have gotten back together if she hadn't died.

Harry closed his eyes against hot tears as he thought of Bill and Fleur's wedding. The day that was supposed to be his last day of quiet before the war began in earnest. Instead, it was a day of hell, as the war was brought, full force, into the Weasley's back yard.

Harry ran to Ginny when he saw her fall. He held her close as she took her final breaths, ignoring those around him. He pushed bright red hair from her face and brushed away dark red blood from around her mouth.

"It's okay, Gin, it'll be all right," Harry kept saying as he rocked her, trying to make himself believe his words. She seemed to be bleeding from everywhere.

"Liar," she laughed softly.

Harry pretended not to hear her, because he knew she was right; he knew she wasn't going to be okay.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, Gin?"

"Kill that bastard, okay?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh around the tears that were falling down his face.

"Okay."

But Ginny didn't hear his response. She was gone.

Harry could still remember the taste of Ginny's blood, his tears, and that taste that was just Ginny as he kissed her one last time, laid her down, and rejoined the battle with fervor.

Harry cleared his throat loudly and finished his mead in one drag.

"I'm going to head up to my room," he said as he set his mug down, running the back of his hand across his mouth more out of reflex than anything else. "We'll head out tomorrow morning at six, okay?"

Ron and Hermione nodded, but Harry wasn't really looking at them. His eyes were clouded and out of focus, but it wasn't until he laid his head down on the pillow in his rented room that he let the tears flow.

***

Hermione looked into the mirror above the dresser in the room she was renting for the evening. She never thought she would get over the little involuntary gasp enchanted mirrors let out the first time they saw her without her shirt these days, but she hoped she would. Most people didn't see what she liked to call her "scar of war," but it was hard to hide when she undressed. She stood before the mirror now, which remained politely silent, and studied her reflection, as she did every evening.

Her eyes started just below her left ear, curved down and across her neck, under the line where her shirt collar would lie, across her chest, over her right breast, and stopped just below her rib cage on her right side. The scar was jagged around the edges, but the line itself was smooth. The flesh was violently pink, almost unnatural.

Hermione closed her eyes to avoid her reflection, and unwillingly saw once again the memory of the battle that had scared her in so many ways.

It had been September 19th, her birthday. Somehow, she didn't think it was a coincidence. It had been decided that her parents would be moved to a safe house, as they were potential targets. When she and her parents' Advanced Guard had arrived at her home for the move, the place where she had learned to walk and read, and that she was a witch, was no longer what it had been. A huge green skull with a writhing snake protruding obscenely from its mouth hung suspended over her home, in the sky she had once used to demonstrate for her parents what she had learned in Astronomy. Ron later told her she had screamed, but all Hermione remembered was running into the building that used to be her home and into the worst nightmare of her life.

There, lying on the floor, were her mother and father. No, they looked nothing like her mother and father, so they couldn't be them. Her parents were so bright and full of life, and they would never just lay on the floor and not breathe, especially if she was screaming and crying for them to start. Their skin was never bruised or smeared with dirt or blood, and her mother would never let her skirt be pushed so far up around her waist, especially with nothing underneath. Her father would never lay with his head at such an odd angle, not with his neck pains. But as Hermione cried, she realized that these two people, these strangers, were her parents, and the mother and father she knew and loved were gone forever.

Ron tried to pull her away, to help her Apparate back to Headquarters, but Hermione heard something out in the back garden. Before either Ron or Harry could stop her, she was running to the back door. And then she saw him.

She still didn't know his name, and she never wanted to. All she cared about was that he was a Death Eater, and she blamed him for ruining her life. Whether or not he participated in any of the destruction she had just witnessed Hermione wasn't sure, but in that moment, she didn't care. Actually, if she was completely honest with herself, she would probably never care.

The Death Eater turned and shot a curse at her. Hermione felt her skin split open and blood warm her shirt, but she kept running. As she raised her wand, she had no doubt what curse she was going to send at the Death Eater. She didn't care if it landed her a life sentence in Azkaban, she simply wanted revenge for what was done to her parents.

"AVADA KEDAVARA!"

Hermione opened her eyes, the image of the Death Eater falling lifeless into her mother's hydrangea bushes lingering momentarily. With slightly shaking hands, she buttoned up a fresh blouse and left her room.

***

Ron jumped slightly at the knock at his door. Wand held in attack position, he opened the door, greatly surprised to see Hermione standing there.

"Can I come in?"

Ron checked his watch without meaning to. It was almost midnight.

"If it's too late, that's okay, I can go back to my room," Hermione said, misinterpreting his reflex. Ron grabbed her arm before she could fully turn away.

"No, it's okay, really. Come in."

She gingerly stepped through the door, shutting it silently behind her.

"So, what's up?" Ron felt lame asking the question, but he was too tired to think of anything more eloquent.

"I love you."

That woke him up.

"Excuse me?" Again, not what he wanted to say, but he was too shocked to say anything else. What did she mean? Had she gone barmy?

"Ron, we're in a time of war, and maybe your mum was right, and it does make people rush things that they normally wouldn't, but maybe it just heightens our senses so much that we become aware of things faster than we normally would. I just know that I love you, and I don't want to die tomorrow without ever telling you that."

"Hermione, you're not going to–"

"You can't promise me I'm not going to die, Ron. I could very well die. As could you. As could Harry. That's why I'm telling you, in case something does happen."

Ron felt his throat begin to close. He couldn't bare the idea of losing Hermione or Harry, and the thought killed him. But deep down, he knew she was right. Perhaps that knowledge was what propelled him into his following course of action.

Before Ron could fully comprehend what he was doing, his lips were crushed to Hermione's, and their tongues were battling furiously. His hands were flying from her hair to her back to her arms, and Hermione kept making small noises that only proved to fuel the inferno he had been trying to tame for the past three years.

Ron had no idea how long he and Hermione had been kissing when she pulled away, he only knew that he hadn't wanted to stop. He looked at her, about to ask why she had ended something so wonderful, when all breath flew from his body.

Hermione had begun to slowly unbutton her shirt. As her hands reached the bottom buttons, Ron realized the purpose of her actions. No one, save the Healers who had treated her, had fully seen the scar the Death Eater had left on her birthday. But tonight, perhaps to prove her love for him, perhaps because it was one more thing she wanted him to know before they died, she was showing her scar to him.

Ron watched as the last of her scar was unveiled as she dropped her bra to the floor. He walked to her, putting his hands in her hair, and kissed her softly.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

He kissed her lips again, then moved his own to the spot just below her left earlobe. Hermione stiffened momentarily, but immediately relaxed as Ron's lips moved gently along her scar. He worshiped every inch of the raised flesh, breathing and mouthing what he only said aloud when he reached the end. Positioned on his knees, his lips softly brushing the spot just below her ribs on the right side, Ron said what he had suspected for quite some time.

"I love you, Hermione Granger."

Hermione and Ron were entangled in a kiss as they fell on to the bed in his room.

***

Hermione was slightly taken aback when she awoke. The room wasn't hers, and there was someone in the bed beside her. A naked someone. Then Hermione saw a mess of red hair, and the night's events came back to her in a flash. Perhaps it was because her innocence had been striped from her when she found her parents, because she didn't feel much different in that respect. She felt sore, but tingly as well. She was happy, but there was also a new, dull ache somewhere deep in her belly. It took her a moment to name it. Guilt. Not about what she had done, or even when she chose to do it. It bothered the analytical side of her mind that she couldn't quite pinpoint the cause of her feelings. She wasn't left with much time to debate it, however, because Ron chose that moment to wake up.

"Morning," he croaked.

"Good morning."

"How'd you sleep."

"All right. You?"

"All right. We have to meet Harry soon, don't we?"

"Thirty minutes."

"Fancy a shower before we go downstairs?"

Hermione blushed as Ron arched his eyebrows suggestively.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind one, but I don't think you should be there." Ron seemed to deflate. "Nothing against you," she added quickly. "I just don't see myself doing much actual showering with you there."

Ron smirked and leaned back as Hermione walked nude across the room to retrieve her clothes.

"So, I'll see you downstairs then," she asked as she thrust her soiled knickers into her pants pocket.

"Yeah, thirty minutes, right?"

"Twenty-five."

Hermione closed the door and walked quickly to her room. She wasn't ashamed, exactly, of what she had done, but she didn't want to be caught leaving a boy's room at five thirty-five in the morning either.

When Hermione reached her room, the first thing she did was head to the shower. Giving the water a moment to warm, she looked at her reflection. She didn't look different, a little tousled, perhaps, but not really different. As she stepped into the steaming water, Hermione decided that Lavender had no idea what she was talking about.

***

Ron hurriedly drank his coffee that he had laced with fire whiskey. He started adding a drizzle to his morning coffee to dull the pain of his sister's death. Although the pain had been dulled, he still drizzled–and on the hard mornings, poured–the biting beverage into his morning coffee. It made the days go by a little easier. Had he had anything different planned for the coming day, Ron would have skipped his fire whiskey entirely, floating by on the memories of the night before. But today wasn't any ordinary day; he needed to keep his thoughts clear, and thinking of Hermione lying under him was not the way to do that.

Ron finished the last dregs of his coffee, the strongest part, as Harry came down the stairs. Ron's first impression was that Harry hadn't gotten much sleep. His second was that his friend had done a good deal of crying the night before.

Harry stood before Ron for a moment before saying anything.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Some, you?"

"A little," Harry replied. "Where's Hermione?"

"Right here."

They both turned. There was Hermione, standing at the base of the stairs, her hair still damp from her shower.

"You two ready to go?" she questioned.

"Whenever you are," Harry said, stepping towards the door.

Ron half wished he could have another coffee, but he followed his friends towards the small pub's exit anyway.

The London air was cool and had a sharp edge to it. Thick clouds hung in the air, natures fog mixing with the mist Dementors created during their mating process. The weather seemed strangely fitting for what was to come, and the connection wasn't lost on Ron. He looked at the others, smiled grimily, and turned on the spot, ending up in Hogsmede when he finished his revolution. He turned to find Hermione already at his side, and Harry appeared a second later with a resounding crack. Together, they started the long journey up to Hogwarts.

***

Harry checked his watch for the thousandth time that day. They had been hiding in the tunnel for hours, with still no sign of any Death Eaters.

"Did Pansy say what time they were planning to get here?" Hermione whispered, as she had every other time Harry had checked his watch.

"No," Harry answered again. "She said she wasn't told a time, just to be ready to assist in the attack."

"Did she know for certain how they were supposed to be getting into the school?"

Harry was almost surprised to hear Ron speak; it was the first time he'd done so since they'd sneaked into Hogwarts under Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"No, she wasn't told that either. I think there's a fairly good chance that they'll choose this tunnel. I mean, they have Wormtail to tell them about it, and the only other one that's open is the one under the Whomping Willow, and they'd still have to get into the school with that one. But there are members of the Order positioned all over the school, just in case."

Ron nodded, and went back to pulling at a loose string in his robes.

Harry looked down the tunnel and into the darkness that he knew eventually led to Honeydukes. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had last travelled down this tunnel, and almost as long since he had been in Hogwarts. Harry had played with the idea of returning for his seventh year most of the previous summer. It was when he first saw Ginny, looking so lovely in her dress robes at Bill and Fleur's wedding, that he had decided that he would try to finish his final year and hunt down the Horcruxes. But then they were attacked, and Ginny was killed, and that fantasy was ripped from his mind.

"Harry," Hermione whispered tensely, tearing him from his thoughts.

Harry followed her gaze, and saw something large and silver barrelling towards them. He made sure the Invisibility Cloak was covering them completely and raised his wand.

The silver creature stopped before them, and Harry could see that it was a Patronous in the form of a lion. It shook its mane, and opened it's mouth, showing long, silver teeth.

"The Great Hall," came McGonagall's frightened voice.

As the three of them ran up the stone ramp as fast as they could, the lion evaporated behind them.

Harry ran down the halls of the place he had called home for so many years. He could vaguely hear his own ragged gasps, and the pounding of Ron and Hermione's feet behind him, but his thoughts seemed to drown out all sound.

_How did they get in? Was there some other way into the school that he didn't know about? Perhaps they cleared one of the collapsed tunnels._

Harry didn't have much more time to think, however, because as he rounded the corner, he found the fight raging full force.

Some students were throwing curses, either at each other, or at adults on both sides; some were running away; and some looked to be already dead. Teachers were trying to clear out the students while fighting off the Death Eaters, who seemed to be having the time of their lives. Some members of the Order were duelling against both Death Eaters and students, others were trying to help the wounded.

Harry vaguely noticed that Ron and Hermione had already joined the fight, sending curses flying at Death Eaters and those who surely would join their ranks if they survived this battle. Harry saw Goyle drop out of the corner of his eye as one of Ron's curses collided with his chest.

"Stupify!" Harry yelled, shooting a curse at a Slytherin fourth year who was torturing a Hufflepuff who could only be a first year.

"Here," Harry said, pairing her up with a Ravenclaw who looked to be about the same age. "Go back to the Hufflepuff common room, it's closer."

"But she's a Ravenclaw–" the small girl tried to protest.

"It doesn't matter," Harry said, "just go."

Harry was about to go help Tonks, who was battling two Death Eaters at once, when a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

"That was very noble of you, Potter," drawled Lucius Malfoy. "Putting yourself in charge of overseeing school unity, at a time like this. Dumbledore would be proud."

Harry turned and tried to shoot a curse at the man who had killed Ginny. Lucius lazily deflected it.

"You know the problem with Gryffindors, Potter?" Lucius drawled as he twirled his wand lazily. "You're emotional. Like Dumbledore. Severus told me he begged–"

"Sepesem–"

"Crucio!"

Harry screamed in pain as the curse tore through his body. He was panting and sweating when the curse was finally lifted.

"Perhaps, Potter," Lucius hissed in his ear, "I should just put you out of the Dark Lord's misery."

As Lucius stood up, Harry raised his wand to defend himself, but there proved to be no need. Before Lucius could even raise his wand, he was hit with a stunning curse in the back. Standing behind him was none other than Snape. Before Harry could fully process what that meant, Snape was gone and someone just behind Harry was screaming.

Luna was contorting unnaturally as McNare held his wand over her.

"STUPIFY!" Harry screamed, causing McNare to collapse suddenly, and lifting the Cruciatis curse from Luna.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked her, helping her to her feet.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she said somewhat weekly. "I can't imagine how those poor goblins could stand that for so long. How could Fudge do that to them?"

Harry decided it best to ignore her question.

"Listen, find a student you can trust and get to whomever's common room is closest, okay?"

"No. I'm here to help, and that's what I'm doing."

Before Harry could protest, she had run off and back into the battle. Harry was about to chase after her when the room disappeared. He was in one of the hallways, walking after two Death Eaters holding a girl up between them. Harry vaguely recognized the girl's bushy brown hair, but he couldn't bring himself to overly care who it was. He was excited over what was going on below him. It had taken him years, but he had finally done it. He was back in Hogwarts, and it was under his control. Now he just had to take care of this girl, and the others would be finished easily.

"This is far enough," he said in a voice that was fairly familiar, but not his.

The men before him stopped and turned the girl to face him. Her head was slumped forward, her hair obscuring her face.

"So, mudblood," Harry drawled, "are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

"Go to hell," the girl spat, before lifting her face.

Harry felt a wave of terror and suddenly fell backwards, back in the Great Hall.

He started running through the crowd, ducking around people duelling, looking for a head of red hair that was above everyone else. Wherever Ron was, Hermione would be close by, Harry was sure of that. He finally spotted Ron helping a group of mixed first years out of the Great Hall.

"Ron!" Harry yelled after him. "Ron, have you seen Hermione?"

Ron shook his head. "She went that way, trying to get a bunch of third years out," he said, pointing towards where the teacher's table usually sat, which was now in ruins.

Harry was on the verge of panicking. He had to be sure that Hermione was not in the Great Hall, that he was not walking into a trap. When he reached the chambers behind the teacher's table, however, it was empty. Fearing the worst, Harry sprinted out of the Great Hall and up to the second floor corridor. He couldn't explain how he knew where he was going, there was nothing distinguishing about the corridor he just saw in what he could only assume was a glimpse into Voldemort's mind, he just knew. As he rounded the final corner, Harry stopped short, his fears confirmed.

There stood Voldemort, watching on as two Death Eaters took turns torturing Hermione.

"Ah, Harry," came the familiar, hissing voice. "How good of you to join us. I trust you know the mudblood. What is her name? Granger?"

"Let her go."

"Now, now, must not forget our manners, Harry. Be polite to your elders, did Dumbledore never teach you that?"

Harry struggled not to throw a curse at Voldemort. He knew it would do no good. Instead, he focused on the plan. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, calming breath. When he opened his eyes, he could see that Hermione was standing and had her wand trained on the Death Eaters. Behind him he could hear footsteps, people running.

"Bloody hell," came Ron's voice as he stopped short, undoubtedly not expecting the scene in front of him.

"Harry, just back up to us, okay?" It was Lupin's voice who said the last. But Harry had no intention of going anywhere. He closed his eyes, and before he cast the spell he had been practicing with Ron and Hermione for the past six months, he remembered the circumstances under which he learned the spell.

McGonagall had presented Harry with a small vial filled with silvery substance he knew was a memory one day after a particularly tense Order meeting.

"We found this in Dumbledore's office with a note that it was meant for you."

When Harry had poured the memory into the Pensieve and stuck his head inside he found Dumbledore sitting alone in his office, talking to a hand mirror. Harry figured it must have been a memory from the previous year, as Dumbledore's hand was already blackened.

"Harry."

Harry jumped back. He was not used to being addressed by someone in a memory.

"Harry, this memory is being made for your viewing. Things are becoming more and more dangerous, and I fear that I might no longer be around when you need this information, but I don't want to give it to you before you are ready. Information can be very dangerous, Harry, you know that. If you are viewing this memory, and I am not relating this information to you, it means that I am no longer around. Perhaps it is just an old man wishing to be remembered as more than he was, but I fear that you will be deeply hurt by my death, however it occurs. Remember only this, Harry, remember what I told you at the end of your first year: death is only the next great adventure. Never fear death, Harry, because it is nothing to fear. The fear of death will only cripple you against feeling anything else, as it did to Voldemort. Learn from his mistakes, Harry, and don't give in to fear.

"Now, the purpose of this memory. There is a charm that I have just recently learned of. It is not a charm like any we study at Hogwarts, but is the most powerful kind of spell ever used. It is a spell born of necessity, Harry, the kind that a witch or wizard creates themselves when the time calls for it and no other spell will do the job. This particular charm that I discovered recently, seems to be what I have been looking for for many years. Now, with all my rambling, I'm sure you are more than ready to hear about this charm, and I will not keep you waiting...."

Harry opened his eyes, saw Voldemort, and knew what he had to do. Without moving his wand, without speaking, Harry cast the first spell Dumbledore had taught him through the memory.

_Encircle_.

Instantly, Harry and Voldemort were caught together within an impenetrable circle. Voldemort looked around, obviously confused. Harry took advantage of the confusion to complete the next stage of the charm.

Focusing as hard as he could on his mother, Harry built up the next level of the charm.

_Protect._

Harry could feel as the next level of the charm surrounded him, building upon his mother's love.

Harry knew he had to act quickly to perform the last level of the charm. He focused on Voldemort, locking eyes with him.

_Disarm_.

Green light was still emanating from Voldemort as the final level was built and Harry strode across the circle towards him.

"You must have complete confidence that the spell will work, Harry," Dumbledore's voice said in his ear. "Know that it will work, and it will. That's all you need to know."

And Harry knew was that it was going to work as he closed the final few feet between himself and Voldemort, who was still obviously confused, and clasped Voldemort's hands in his own.

"Destroy."

Harry felt the spell start somewhere deep inside his stomach and explode outward, melding with the circle.

"First, Harry, there will be a surge of power from within yourself," Dumbledore had said. "This is your power, Harry, the pure love that resides in you."

Harry could see in Voldemort's eyes that he knew what was coming. He tried to pull his hands away, but it was too late. The circle around them had begun pulsating, the power of the charm building. Very quickly, almost instantaneously, the circle imploded, seemingly drawn into Voldemort. For a second, all Harry could see was the fear filling Voldemort's red eyes.

"Second, the circle you erected, the circle you filled with your mother's love as well as your own, will pour into Voldemort. We know that love hurts him Harry, that is why he cannot possess you. I am hoping that by filling him with the only thing that I'm found that can hurt him, we will be able to destroy him."

Once the last of the spell entered Voldemort, he began to scream. A high pitched, unworldly scream. Harry tried to cover his ears, but he couldn't move his hands. Just when he thought his eardrums were going to explode, Voldemort did.

It started with green light exploding out of him, tearing through Harry and sending him flying back into the wall. When he raised his head, Voldemort was laying crumpled on the floor. Even from across the hall, Harry could see he wasn't breathing.

Satisfied that it was finally over, Harry laid his head back and let the darkness take over.

When he opened his eyes, everything was hazy. Each time he opened his eyes, a different person was standing next to him. It could have been hours, it could have been days, Harry wasn't sure. All he was sure of was that he felt fuzzy, and he was fairly sure he had hit his head, because he was seeing people he knew he couldn't possibly be seeing. Ron and Hermione were normal, but Harry was certain that Hermione's parents couldn't be standing besides her. And of course Lupin would come and visit him in the hospital wing, but Sirius couldn't, nor could Harry's parents. Yet there they were, as clear as everyone else. Harry turned his head towards the window, and saw Dumbledore sitting in the chair besides his bed.

"You did wonderfully, Harry. Better than anyone else could have ever hoped."

"It worked?" Harry asked. His voice sounded hoarse.

"Yeah, mate, it worked," Ron said. He sounded so far away. "You need your rest, though."

"Harry." It was his mother, she was standing besides him. "Ron's right, you've done all you could, you can come with us now."

"But what about them?"

"Ron and Hermione will be fine, son." his father said, resting a hand on his mother's shoulder. "They'll understand."

"I–I can't...."

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "Remember what I said. We mustn't fear death."

"Harry."

Harry almost cried when he heard the voice he heard every night in his dreams. He turned his head and saw the beautiful red head sitting besides him.

"Harry, it's time," Ginny whispered, touching his cheek softly. "They'll understand. Come on."

She extended her hand. Harry took it.

"Are you sure?"

"Completely."

Ginny bent forward, touching her lips to his in a beautiful, sweet kiss as Harry gave in and joined them.


End file.
